Most read stories

A taste of competition

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We called him Mickey Habanero, because he could fill his mouth with the hottest food imaginable, the kind packed with the sort of heat that would melt the gums from the teeth of a novice, all without taking a drink of milk or anything else that would otherwise soothe the…

Homonyms

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Ascent/Assent Together the horizon/ Catechism of love

Like Picasso

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lying back on inviolable sheets, your breasts spread apart like a child’s open hands you’d look up at me and smile

Movie Conference, 1963

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Suddenly the producer, Irving, tosses a new idea into the discussion, an idea for a possible film. Then the writer, Herbert, does the talking. He performs, in fact, puts on a one-man show. The idea! The idea! It's…

Meteorology

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Among the raindrops/ occasional plopping snowflakes.

The Old Man and the Cigarette

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Flicking the cigarette into the river the man's face becomes soft, as if waving goodbye to the only real attachment that he has felt in decades.

Freedom

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She tossed the big bird into the air. It wobbled, then flew away.

Aftermath

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Oh sweet, sweet morning light

We Never Left

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Above our bellies we are beautiful women with luscious breasts. Where there is skin, believe me, it is flawless, irresistible. Most of us have long hair, but there are some among us who keep their heads close cropped for aerodynamic…

King Street Station

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Despite the newly bright bricks and the working clock, Cassie couldn't help but take a deep breath before entering King Street Station. She had always tried to hold her breath when her family cut through it on the way to Mariners games but had never succeeded, not…

Secure

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This is the Minuteman tine/ of the three-tined fork// we can stick into the modern world/ when it’s done-- a MAD triad.

To See Who's There

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Able to search through centuries, I click, scribble, skim,resurrect wet stone walls, the smell of burning peat.Bob's your uncle; Peggy's your aunt.Name your family, child. My brother said helloto Uncle Shirley and Aunt Greg. I was more…

Marks in the Sand (Poetry-Rhythm)

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I am only ever What you seem to be Without the leverage Of sweet reality

The Song of Jerome

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"My love is with eggs!"

Apex

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You left paint and blood smeared on the wall.

The Road

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we were traveling on wasn't necessarily going to go careening over any hill as fast as it was smashing into the blunt end of another cloudless hole like a cartoon cat chasing a cartoon mouse. It was huge like a stone wall that had its own…

The Savage (K2)

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Rises monstrous out of the Baltoro GlacierPlaying poker with oxygen levelsPlays leap frog with embolisms.Malice and vanity join forces somurder guns the air even beforethe Death Zone. Down suits, bold and cockyregisters the climber's ambitions. The Serac , a…

From a Street-Lit Dark Room

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Whenever trees or limbs fell in isolate forests—well, no narrators were ever to be found, not even beneath the larger tree trunks or under the fallen limbs.

PAPA'S TEARS

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Darkness was fast approaching. I stuck out my tongue at Naya, and she reached out as if to grab…

it

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where will we be/ when it happens?

Poem: The Two Week Vacation

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The mother, a pony-tailed beauty, thinks she looks fat in her new blue-checked pedal pushers and white blouse tied under her full breasts— in the latest style.

Breaking Point

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I can do the hot coals, no problem. Or, your love, eyes closed. Or your sneer, spank, suffering, resentment, rejection.

Blind

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a dim wood-paneled stair leading to the ladies’ rooms, candle-lit.

Unexpected Flying Objects

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Meanwhile it was four o'clock in the morning, Pacific time. Seven o'clock eastern. The cat was busy chasing imaginary mice around the hammock—at least Manuel hoped the mice were imaginary. He loaded the next digital images onto the screen. It seemed to

How Was Your Afternoon, Dear? 2

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The pool deck was covered with the bloody footprints of resident gawkers.

Santa

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Santa’s ruddy snoze/

Her last good year

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“We are NOT starving!” I stated emphatically. “What ever gave you the idea that you are starving? Honestly, Annie, you are so melodramatic. You have food in front of you right now, don’t you?’ I said pointing to her plate of potatoes and so

Version - 2.0

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Pale like a tracing of a memory

Rest Stop

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Wicklow sat in the handicapped stall, pants down and straining, fed up to here with a world in which he couldn’t even take a decent crap.

in defense of assholes

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No excerpt for you.